Chapter 27
Riley
“Hello, Riley.”
“Hello, sir.” I lifted my head, smiling at Deacon. He reached down and tugged on a curl. “Your hair looks very pretty today.”
“Thank you, sir.” I”d looked forward to being on my knees in Deacon’s office since dropping him at the mechanic’s yesterday.
He stared at the glasses case I held in my right hand before he said, “Stand, please.”
I stood, flushing a little when Deacon looked me up and down. I’d worn a much tighter and shorter dress than I would ever wear to an actual office, and his gaze lingered on my braless tits for so long that I started to squirm.
“No fidgeting, Riley,” he said.
I made myself stand still as Deacon stared at my legs. The dress was so short it barely covered the tops of my thigh highs, and smug satisfaction washed over me when I saw the bulge at Deacon’s crotch. Turning Deacon on without even touching him was my new favourite thing.
I was certain Deacon would immediately fuck me, so when he stepped back and indicated for me to go to my desk, my smugness turned to disappointment. I sat at my desk and slipped on my glasses before studying my computer screen.
I glanced up and smiled at Deacon, who had returned to his desk but was staring at me. I took a chance and spoke without his permission. “I love my new glasses, Mr. Cross.”
“Good.” His voice was weirdly hoarse, and he didn’t reprimand me for breaking a rule. “Get to work, Riley.”
“Yes, sir.”
Twenty minutes later, I was finished retyping the random document Deacon had left on my desk. I removed my glasses and left them on my desk before standing. His phone rang, and surprise rippled through me when he answered it and put it on speaker.
“Hey, Richard. Did you get my email? The missing numbers for the quarterly reports are concerning.”
“I think I’ve found the issue,” Richard said.
It was a little strange to hear Deacon doing actual work during one of our play sessions, but I shook off the oddness as I knelt on the cushion next to him and placed my hands in my lap.
Deacon cupped the back of my head, and I happily rested my face against his thigh. He stroked my curls as he and Richard talked. I suppressed a giggle at the thought of Richard’s face if he knew I was here right now, kneeling at Deacon’s feet as they spoke.
Deacon curled his hand around my arm and tugged. I got to my feet, unsure of what he wanted, until he patted his lap. I hesitated, still not comfortable with sitting on his lap. He frowned at me and gave me a light spank to the ass as Richard droned on about numbers.
I moved between his legs and perched on one thigh like an anxious bird, trying to keep my full weight off of him.
“I can see the May numbers on the spreadsheet, but not February’s,” Deacon said as he stared at his computer screen.
“Shit, did I send you the wrong version? Hold on a second.” Richard’s voice was muffled.
I gasped when, without warning, Deacon tugged down the low neckline of my dress. My breasts popped free, and Deacon tucked the fabric underneath them. He pulled on one nipple, and I squeaked in surprise.
“Is something wrong?” Richard asked.
“No,” Deacon said. He put his phone on mute and gave my nipple a sharp pinch. “If Richard hears you again, you’ll be spanked and sent home without an orgasm, Riley.”
“I can’t stay quiet if you’re touching me,” I said.
Deacon unmuted his phone. “Did you find the correct version, Richard?”
“Yes, just emailing it now.”
I stifled my moan when Deacon kneaded and cupped my breasts with his left hand, his fingers tugging on my nipples as he opened the spreadsheet. As he studied the document, he continued to play with my tits until I squirmed and wiggled on his lap like a fish on a hook.
I’d forgotten my worry about being too heavy, and when he tugged me back against his chest, I slumped against him, my hands squeezing the chair arms and my lips pressed tight together. Each tug of his fingers against my nipples sent a line of hot desire straight to my pussy, and I was pretty sure I was dripping all over his damn lap at this point.
“Okay, this looks better. Did you add in the numbers from the first quarter?” Deacon lifted my left leg and draped it over the chair arm. My dress had ridden up to the very top of my thighs, and cool air washed over my throbbing pussy. I clapped my hand over my mouth, my back arching when Deacon stuck his hand between my legs. He rubbed my clit with slow circles.
“Yes, they’re on the third sheet,” Richard said.
Deacon clicked to the third sheet, his other hand still rubbing my pussy. “I think we’ll need to create a new sheet with monthly numbers only, then another with the quarterlies.”
Deacon’s thick fingers speared into my pussy, and I bit into the meat of my hand to keep from moaning.
“Sure, I can do that. Do you need it today?” Richard asked.
“Monday will be fine,” Deacon said. He fucked me with his fingers as he studied the spreadsheet. “Did Tonya finish the work I gave her on Thursday?”
How the fuck could he sound so normal? His cock was a hard stone against my ass, and I was humping his fingers wildly, but you’d never know it by the tone of his voice. That indifference, that ability to drive me to the brink without losing his iron control, made me so fucking hot I was about to burst into flames right there.
“She did,” Richard said. “Didn’t she email it to you?”
My pussy made wet sucking sounds as it clung to Deacon’s fingers. Richard would hear it, and I would get in trouble. Deacon would spank me and leave me aching and needy.
I lifted my leg off the chair arm and clamped my thighs together, trapping Deacon’s hand as I tried to muffle the sounds my pussy made. Deacon scowled at me, and I gave him a frantic look as he said, “I don’t have an email from Tonya.”
“Okay, hold on,” Richard said with an annoyed sigh. “I know she sent it to me.”
Deacon muted his phone and tugged his hand free from between my thighs.
“Deacon,” I whimpered, “Please, I -”
“Lift your skirt and bend over my desk,” Deacon said.
His voice was calm, and fully confident I would do exactly what he said.
And why wouldn’t I? I was his good girl, and good girls did what they were told.
I stood and shimmied my tight skirt to my waist before bending over his desk. I planted my hands on the desk and stared at the smooth, empty space between them.
“I want to see your cunt, Ms. Gates. Show me.”
Deacon’s voice was still calm, still controlled.
I spread my legs wide, showing him that pink, slippery flesh that quivered for him, the liquid that dripped from my clenching hole for him.
I waited with breathless anticipation, my thighs shaking and little drops of sweat forming on my forehead.
“Sent the email, Deacon,” Richard said.
I couldn’t see Deacon unmuting the phone, but I knew he must have. His finger traced the top of my thigh high as I stared at my reflection in the shiny desk and listened to the soft clicks of his mouse. “Got it. Thanks, Richard.”
One thick finger probed at my entrance, and I turned and buried my mouth into my arm when it breached me.
“Looks good,” Deacon said, and I bit back my sudden laughter. Was he talking about the spreadsheet or my pussy?
Another finger joined the first in my pussy, and my swollen, wet flesh begged for more. The fingers in me turned and pressed with delicious deliberateness against my g-spot. I writhed on the desk, panting harshly into my arm as slow waves of pleasure washed over me.
My focus narrowed to Deacon’s thick fingers sliding in and out and my absolute certainty that if I made even a single sound, Deacon would stop touching me, and I would die in agony.
Was he still talking to Richard? Or was he unbuttoning his pants? Was his cock, stiff and swollen and slick with precum in his other hand? I writhed at the image of him behind me, fingers buried in my pussy while he stroked his dick with the other.
I wanted to scream at him, wanted to wail the filthy thought that clanged in my head over and over.
Fuck my cunt!
Instead, I bit into my arm and rubbed my stiff nipples against the desk, my pounding heart the only sound I could hear. I moaned into my arm when Deacon withdrew, leaving my hole aching and empty. I arched my back in helpless supplication, silently begging for him to fill me with his fingers again, to give me something to clench and squeeze and -
His big hands gripped my hips, and I almost wept when I felt the blunt head of his cock against my entrance. He stabbed into me, filling and stretching me with a sweet burn that I embraced.
His hand wound in my hair, and he pulled my head up until I stared wild-eyed at the ceiling. His voice spoke in my ear, his breath warm against my cheek. “Scream for me when I fuck your pussy, good girl.”
His other hand landed on my shoulder, holding me immobile as he drove in and out of my pussy. The hot pleasure I ached for, the need to be filled and taken finally satisfied, threw me over the edge, and I shouted, shrieked, screamed.
I pushed back against the pounding Deacon doled out, taking every deep stroke of his perfect cock as the waves of pleasure washed endlessly over me. He shouted harshly, his hand tightening painfully in my hair and on my shoulder and hot warmth spilled inside me. I clenched around him, milking his cock for every last drop as Deacon shuddered above me.
He released me, and I collapsed against the desk, sucking in breath after breath as Deacon planted one hand on the desk beside my head. His breath matched mine, and I had no idea how much time had passed before I croaked. “Tell me the phone is on mute.”
He barked laughter and kissed my back. “I ended the call with Richard before I fucked you.”
“Thank fuck,” I said, making him laugh again.
“Stay there,” he said before pulling out. He left the office, and I did as he asked. I probably looked ridiculous bent over his desk, but my legs were still quivering, and I wasn’t sure I could stand yet anyway.
He returned with his usual warm cloth and towel, and I closed my eyes as we went through the small cleaning ritual. I’d never had a partner do that for me before, and as Deacon helped me straighten and turn, I smiled at him. “Thank you.”
He kissed me. “It’s my pleasure. I didn’t use a condom because we didn’t use them on Friday or Saturday after the first one broke. I hope that’s okay.”
“Yes,” I said. My tits were still out like they were auditioning for a porn movie. My face crimson, I tucked them back into my dress and pulled the bottom half of the dress into place.
Deacon’s phone alarm went off, and he silenced it before smiling at me. “I enjoyed today, Riley.”
“Me too,” I said and waited for him to ask me to stay.
Instead, he glanced at his phone and then his computer screen. Disappointment washed over me, but I could take a hint. I plastered a smile on my face and slipped by him. “Enjoy the rest of your Sunday.”
“You as well,” he said.
He called my name as I reached his office door and hope renewed in my belly. I turned, and he said, “Don’t forget your glasses.”
I glanced at my desk before hurrying over and grabbing them off the desk. “Right. Thank you. Um, bye.”
“Bye, Riley.”
* * *
When my phone rang,I was just sinking into my much too small tub compared to Deacon’s glorious soaker tub. I reached for it, a little thrown off by how much I hoped it was Deacon. If he were calling to ask me to come back, I would do it, no matter how pathetic it made me look.
It wasn’t Deacon, but Celeste and I answered the call with a vague feeling of trepidation. Why would she be calling me on Sunday night? She always called Monday.
“Hi, Celeste.”
“Hello, darling. How are you?”
“I’m good, thank you. How are you?”
“Oh, fine, fine. I’m calling because Mr. Steele paid for your session this afternoon. He indicated that you had more involved personal time together,” she paused, “and he adjusted his payment accordingly. He assured me it was a mutual decision to alter the agreement, but Catherine and I wanted to confirm with you that it was mutual.”
Shocked into silence, I didn’t reply. Deacon had told the Twisted Sisters we fucked.
“Riley?” Celeste’s voice turned sharp. “It was mutual, wasn’t it? Mr. Steele in no way coerced you into a deeper level of personal time, did he?”
I bit back the inappropriate urge to shout, “Fucking! We fucked this afternoon during our play session. Just call it what it is, Celeste.”
“Riley?” Celeste repeated. “If Mr. Steele in any way pressured you for something you were unwilling to do, Catherine and I consider that a very serious matter. We do not tolerate clients who -”
“It was mutual,” I said quickly. “I very much wanted to have more, uh, personal time with Mr. Steele.”
“Are you certain?” Celeste’s tone suggested she believed me about as much as she believed in ghosts.
“I’m positive,” I said firmly. “Mr. Steele didn’t pressure me in any way. I wanted everything that happened this afternoon to happen.”
“Okay,” Celeste said, and I could hear the relief soaking into that simple word. “I’ll transfer your payment into your account this evening. Mr. Steele left his customary tip as well.”
“Okay, that’s good, thank you,” I said.
Celeste ended the call, and I stared at my phone before setting it on the small stool beside the tub, sinking into the hot water, and staring at the water-stained ceiling.
Deacon paid money to fuck me. I was officially a woman who had intercourse with men for money. My throat tightened, and tears collected in my lashes. I wiped them away impatiently. So what if Deacon had paid me for fucking him? What did I expect? He’d booked me for a play session, and we fucked… of course, he would pay for it.
Friday and Saturday had brought certain feelings to the surface that weren’t appropriate or smart. We weren’t in a relationship, and this was a good reminder of that. I needed to be grateful he’d pulled back and erected a very clear barrier between us. Deacon Cross wasn’t looking for a girlfriend, and even if he were, my broke ass would not be the one he chose.
I closed my eyes, wishing I’d brought a glass of wine - hell, an entire bottle - into the bathroom with me. It was fine. This was good that he’d paid me to fuck him. I had more money to send to my parents tomorrow. Deacon was doing me a solid by paying me for fucking him.
Everything was fine.
Everything was good.